Yesterday (or was it today?) is a blur. I pretty much arrived at my cute little apartment, around 4PM French time, got the kitties set up, ate some pasta my landlady made for me since it was Sunday and all the stores were closed. I fought mightily to stay awake until 11PM, to try to get on a normal sleeping clock.
I awaken refreshed and ready to go. I look out the window to see what kind of a day it’s going to be and am mildly shocked by the view.
Thrown, I check the clock: 3:30AM. I go back to bed, but my body is already in “let’s go” mode. I get up, make some tea and a plate of bread and cheese (aren’t I European?) thumb through some information about the region and wait.
Finally, it’s light enough to take my preliminary grand tour of Vidauban. If I can find it. I head down the dirt road and onto the main road, looking for the telltale church spire that I use as a compass in every European village, town and city I’ve ever been (a rare example of organized religion providing something useful).
I can’t wait to see it when the stores are open.